


That Ever Offended Nostril

by gypsydancergirl (hauntedlittledoll)



Series: Double Double Toil and Trouble [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Shakespeare is My Second Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedlittledoll/pseuds/gypsydancergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and the Winchesters take on a troll during the Feast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Ever Offended Nostril

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from Shakespeare's "The Merry Wives of Windsor."

As soon as Castiel entered the boys’ bathroom, he could hear the sobs.  He carefully shut the bathroom door behind him, blocking out the sounds of the Halloween Feast.  He moved down the line of stalls and knocked firmly on the last one.

There was a muffled choking sound, and then dead silence.  Castiel didn’t buy it.

“Sam Winchester.”

The door opened slowly and the younger boy looked up at him wide eyed.  “Cast-eel?”

“Cas-ti-el,” the older boy sounded it out for the younger patiently.  “I am not metallic.”

“Castiel,” Sam repeated, but without the questioning tone this time.

Castiel sighed and crouched to put himself on the other boy’s eye level.  It had proven useful in winning over Joanna Beth on more than one occasion.  “Why are you not at the feast, Sam?”

“I’m not a student,” Sam tried.

“That has not stopped Joanna Beth from successfully begging large amounts of sugar off of the students for many years now.  Nor is it stopping your brother from flirting with every female in the Great Hall.”

Sam’s nose wrinkled.  “Professors too?”

Castiel nodded gravely.  “Professors too.”

“Gross,” Sam informed Castiel decisively, and smeared snot across his face as he swiped it with his sleeve.

“Among other things,” Castiel sighed, and led the younger boy over to the sink where he wet his handkerchief and set to work on the child’s dirty tearstained face.  Making headway on one cheek, Castiel turned to the other and asked again: “Why are you not at the feast, Sam?”

A fresh wave of tears undid all of Castiel’s hard work, and Sam pulled away.  “My mother died November 2nd, Castiel.  We d-don’t usually do anything for Halloween because it’s like this really big re-reminder.”

Castiel caught the younger boy’s collar and worked on the new mess.  “My mother died when I was eight years old, and not long after my birthday.  I doubt that she would want me to feel sad on my birthday as a result.  My mother was firmly of the opinion that birthdays called for cake.  And sometimes pie.”

“I think my mother really liked Halloween,” Sam sniffled, but hopefully.  “And Dean says she liked chocolate frogs for sure.”

“Then we should return to the Hall before your brother consumes them all,” Castiel informed him, brushing off the child’s robes and straightening his tie.  He drew the line at restoring any semblance of decorum to Sam Winchester’s hair.  It was of his solemn opinion that with another two inches, it could be classified as a magical creature of XXXX standing.

“Yeah!” Sam grinned up at him and held out his hand.

Castiel regarded the appendage for a moment, then sighed, and reached out to take it within his own.  Sam brightened even more if possible, and Castiel let the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.  He was about to say something when Sam’s eyes got impossibly large on such a tiny face.

Castiel hadn’t heard the door open, but he spun immediately, putting himself between Sam and the threat.

It was a troll.

Trolls actually are rated as Class XXXX for their incredible strength, appetite, and stupidity, Castiel recalled.  Professor Crowley despised their unsanitary habits, and it was always wise to have more than one wizard in order to thoroughly confuse it.

“Sam,” Castiel began calmly.  “If I distract the troll, can you run to the Great Hall for help?”

Sam nodded, peeking around Castiel.  “How are you going to distract it?”

That was a very good question.  Castiel would just as soon not be crushed.  He cast about for a desperate moment looking for a suitable spell.  He could make the club bigger, but that would only compound their problems.  He could levitate the club, but he’s not sure what will happen if the troll doesn’t let go.  Or he could transfigure the buttons on the troll’s trousers into beetles, and that wouldn’t help anyone while scarring all involved.

Castiel briefly observed that a First Year’s education at Hogwarts was completely useless, and then decided a more physical approach would be required.

Digging a handful of gobstones out of his pocket, Castiel showed them to the younger boy.  “I will throw these against the far wall, and when he goes to investigate the noise, you must run.  Do you understand, Sam?”

Sam nodded.

“Get ready,” Castiel warned, and pitched two of them across the room.  They shattered against the far wall, and the troll’s head swung in the direction of the noise.  It didn’t move away from the doorway, however, and Castiel realized the motion of Sam too late to prevent it.

The eight year old dove through the legs of the troll to freedom, and proceeded to run down the corridor, shrieking like a banshee.

Castiel had just lost a hundred years off his life span; the eleven year old was positive.  However, Sam was presumably in one piece to make that much noise, and Castiel managed to refocus on the troll which was only now realizing that something was amiss.

It made a grunting noise as it surveyed the ground in front of it, and after a long moment lifted one leg to stomp downward.  This belated effort to crush Sam merely broke through stone, and Castiel thought for a moment that if the troll continued its tantrum, he could simply wait for the teachers.

It was not to be.  Within seconds, the troll seemed to forget about Sam entirely.  Now it shook its club and bellowed at Castiel.

Castiel pegged it between the eyes with a gobstone.

The gobstone did as expected, and squirted the unfortunate troll.

Should Castiel survive this encounter, he can inform Professor Crowley with reasonable certainty that a troll’s unsanitary state can be linked to its utter dislike of being wet.

“ARGHHHHHH!”

That’s assuming Castiel lives long enough.

“HIIII-YAAAAH!”

Dean Winchester’s arrival is usually heralded by noise, but the other boy seems to outdo himself this time.  The ten year old boy then proceeded to tackle the troll, while his little brother ran to Castiel’s side.

“Castiel,” Sam panted.  “I got him.”

Castiel stared down in stupefied silence until a second war cry prompted him to action.  “I told you to get help!  A teacher.  All the teachers!”

“You just said ‘help,’ so I got Dean,” Sam protested.

“If you two are done caring and sharing over there, I could use a hand!” Dean hollered.  His arms were locked around the troll’s neck, but as far as the troll was concerned, Dean Winchester made an attractive, if somewhat wiggly necklace.

“Dean Winchester, get off that thing,” Castiel ordered.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” Dean shouted as the troll began to flail.  Castiel shoved Sam behind him, and dove under a long arm.  Using the troll’s foot for a step up, he just managed to grasp the back of Dean’s robes.  With a hard tug and helped somewhat by the troll’s struggles, Castiel successfully detached the younger boy from the troll.  Granted, Dean then proceeded to land on top of Castiel, and they are both nearly crushed underfoot, but some small progress has been made.

“You’re not allowed in here!” Sam yelled over them all.  “Trolls must be in the cus-to-dy of a cert-i-fied trainer in pop-u-lated areas!  Professor Singer said so!”

As far as distraction techniques go, it’s proving useful.  The troll has obviously never encountered anything like the small, lecturing child hiding behind a sink.  Castiel and Dean take the opportunity to roll out of the danger zone.

The troll took a lumbering step towards Sam, and Castiel is preparing to attempt tackling the club out of the beast’s grasp, when Dean Winchester proved such methods unnecessary.  The other boy is standing across the room with Castiel’s stolen wand in hand.

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

The club is ripped out of the troll’s grasp with gigantic force, and the little pickpocket had obviously not thought ahead to the part where the club flew at him.  Dean crumpled under the impact, and Sam screamed.

Castiel didn’t hear it.  Castiel’s focus was on his wand, rolling slowly across the stones until it came to a rest next to the troll’s left foot.   The troll bellowed in response and lifted a foot.  It became rapidly obvious that Castiel had no other option than to dive around and under the troll to reach his wand before the troll could stomp on it.

Castiel would later inform his father, Professors Harvelle and Winchester, the Headmaster, and anyone else who asked that the Winchester brothers were terrible influences.

Castiel rolled onto his back, brandishing his wand as that large and smelly foot began to descend, and he bellowed:

“WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!”

The foot never made contact.  Instead, the troll’s head collided with the stone ceiling, providing a disturbing crashing noise that reverberated throughout the whole room.

“Wow,” Sam Winchester whispered in the silence that followed.  “We just took out a troll.”

Castiel grimaced.  He had just taken out a troll, thank you very much, and his spell wasn’t going to hold up for much longer.  His arm was already beginning to shake from the force.

Dean Winchester appeared in his line of vision then, and steadying Castiel’s hand, directed the troll away from them all.  The troll’s weight took out a few toilets as it made a final echoing impact, but it didn’t stir.  Castiel counted it as a win.

“Wicked,” Dean breathed.

Castiel grimaced as he sat up.  The sound of footsteps promised anything but as the teachers finally approached.  Castiel was beyond grounded.

He’d probably forgive the Winchesters if Dean taught him that spell though.

It was kind of wicked.


End file.
